The Champ Is Destroyed 2: Rough Revenge
by Xmastreelites
Summary: Sequel. Cena wants revenge. Violence, Sex. Part of my trio of sick porn. Extreme, proceed with caution


"Uh! Fuck!" The beaten man cried out and his ragged breath burned his throat. "Uh! Stop! Fuck stop!"

"You cryin' Orton?"

"We're sorry, okay? We're fucking sorry!" Randy Orton screamed into the face of John Cena. "Why are you doing this to just me? Cody was there too!"

"What makes you think I don't have that bitch somewhere tied up in a closet?" Cena's eyes bore into Randy's. This was a side of John no one had ever seen. He was angry and he was sadistic and out for bloody revenge. He punched Orton hard in the mouth.

He took another swing at Randy's abs, taking the breath from him. "Fuck!"

"Makes those baby kendo sticks seem like nothing doesn't it?" He hit Orton again, a sturdy shovel handle, his weapon.

_A week before_

At the hands of his jealous co-workers, Cena had suffered unmentionable horrors and been left alone and injured. When he'd managed to escape the dank basement where he was tortured and used, he was lost in a city, not having a clue where he was.

People had been very reluctant to pick up a huge shirtless, filthy man carrying a large stick. Finally a WWE fan recognized him. "Dude John Cena! Man, are you okay? What happened?"

"I was kidnapped briefly," Cena answered flatly and the man could tell the Champ was being truthful. He'd taken Cena to a hotel and after much scrutiny, the staff had welcomed him. To be accurate, they welcomed the money of a man who checked into the most expensive suite in the place. They offered to call for medical assistance numerous times but Cena had refused.

Upstairs in the luxury suite, he soaked in a bath of hot water, trying to wash away not only his blood and the dirt but to cleanse his very soul. After the hot bath and a shower, he'd looked himself over carefully. His mouth was busted up. Welts rose on his chest. Blood trickled from his anus. He felt sick thinking about each horror and found himself vomiting repeatedly. He lay on the bathroom floor and balled up. He allowed himself his one indulgence before gathering himself. He cried, his body shaking. He sobbed, letting it all out, holding a plush towel to his face.

He emerged from the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He knew who he needed to face first and looked into the mirror. His blue eyes had an edge in them that even he had never seen. His strong jaw, cut from his Yugoslavian ancestors, was strong and set. He accepted himself and forgave himself and let go of his shame. Now, he wanted only one thing. Revenge.

Cena had not been on the next television appearance. He was deemed injured by his personal doctor, who kept matters strictly quiet. John had given so much to the company that his missing one show was excused with no consequences.

Though a chemical had been used to render him unconscious, Cena approached Orton head on and had clocked him and put the man down cold. Cena had no problem scooping up the large man and body slamming him into the trunk of a vintage Dodge Charger. He peeled away from the arena, unseen. Down the road, John heard the loud thumping as Orton beat on the trunk. He could hear Randy yelling and kicking. The man was making quite a stir. Cena turned down a rough road and bounced Orton all over the cramped trunk. He arrived at a spot he'd scouted for the last 3 days. He'd even slept there, becoming familiar with every inch of the place.

He opened the trunk and punched Orton square in the head, making him see stars. John slapped police-grade cuffs on him and jerked him out and onto the ground. Randy already had several cuts and bloodied knuckles from his futile fight to escape the trunk. He lay on the dirt, his vision clearing and he was looking at a battered, abandoned barn. When he realized that he was seeing Cena as well, Randy went straight to begging for his life.

Now Orton was secured to the gate of a horse stall. John had secured him tightly with chain around the wrists and ankles. He'd ripped Orton's shirt off and shredded it to pieces in a rage. He'd hit an already beat up Orton with the shovel handle countless times. Randy screamed out every time.

John was out of breath and stopped. "You thought you ruined me. Hell, I did too." John said through ragged breaths. "It took me forever to even want to pull myself off the floor. I thought _this_," he held up the shovel handle, "was something that would plague me, destroy me for the rest of my life." He hit Randy with the handle. "But ya know what? I don't crumble that easily and I pried this fucking thing from the shovel it was attached to and I kept it." He laughed in Randy's face. "I fucking kept it just for you, Orton." He swung again, hearing a rib crack in Orton's torso. Randy screamed in pain. "I decided the only way I can save myself and face you is to put you where I was." He punched Randy's jaw again, blood poured from his swollen face.

He held the wooden pole up. "You put this inside me. Do you now how sick that was?" He shoved the handle towards Randy's lips.

"Fuck no!" Randy began twisting his head away. John jabbed him the ribs with the end of the pole and Randy was paralyzed in pain for a moment. John shoved the handle in Randy's mouth, a bloody tooth flew out.

John watched it land in the dirt. "You're rich as hell. You can get it fixed." He gagged Orton on the pole. "Yeah, Randy, taste it. Nice huh? I hope it tastes like shit, bitch." He jerked it from Orton's mouth and tossed it aside. Fresh blood spilled from Randy's lower lip. Cena moved close to Randy and cradled his chin, holding his face up. "Spit it out," he soothed. "I need you to last. Can't have you choking on blood before I'm done." He slapped at Orton's cheeks lightly. "Spit it out."

Though he was in pain and frightened for his life, Cena's soft touches to his face made Randy get the slightest bit turned on. He knew he was a sick one and most times, he just didn't give a damn. Cena sensed Orton's gross version of what was hot. He worked Randy's fly and jerked his jeans down to mid-thigh. John wasn't surprised to find Randy's cock unhindered by underwear and getting hard. He couldn't stop himself from slapping it hard. Orton jerked in his restraints and grunted.

"This is your kind of fun, right Randy?" He slapped Orton's prone cock again.

"Please stop. I'll do anything!" Randy yelled, blood flying from his lips.

"Oh I know you will," John said in an ominous tone. "You're going to do anything I want you to do." He freed Randy's arms and the tall man fell into a heap, still restrained at the ankles.

"Fuck!" He cried out holding his ribs and trying to balance on his knees. "I'm falling on my face!"

John slipped his hand around Randy's neck and held him steady. "You'll be fine." With his free hand, John opened his own fly. He stroked his cock until it was semi-hard. "Open your fucking mouth."

Wanting no more pain, Randy spat blood out and allowed John to put his fat cock into his mouth. Randy sucked slowly, his lip and jaw burning with discomfort. "Come on, take it deep." John popped Randy in the head. Orton took John in deeper and began sucking the length of him. Cena's cock grew and was soon a completely hard rod in Randy's mouth. With every stroke, Randy grunted, his face hurting and his rib giving him hell. He slowed down. Cena quickly grasped the back of his head and pumped his cock into Randy's mouth. Blood and drool from Orton's lips dripped on both men's jeans. John grunted with pleasure as he forced his cock into Randy's filthy mouth. "Yeah, bitch," he whispered, making Randy gag. Cena force-fucked Randy's face for several minutes. He knew that he was going to cum and pulled away quickly. Orton fell face-down, gagging on blood. He landed on the cracked rib and cried out loudly.

Cena watched the usually tough man try to ball up on the ground, whispering, "Oh fuck, oh fuck," trying to calm himself. He didn't care if all of Orton's ribs were cracked. He wanted the man to pay.

Cena removed his own belt and brushed it across Randy's face. Orton looked up. "Oh god no, John. Man, don't."

Cena put the belt across Randy's ass hard. Orton yelped and tried to cover his naked ass. The belt flew through the air again and caught his ass and his hand. Randy cried out and jerked his hand away. "Yeah, just take it! Take it Randy! Like I did."

Cena didn't let up and beat Orton until he was crying. The sharp crack of the belt left lifted stripes across Orton's ass and upper thighs. Finally Cena tossed the belt aside.

"I'm doing okay even though I don't have a wingman like you did. You're still looking pretty fucked up, Randy."

From the ground, Orton lifted his head, blood poured from his mouth and tears streamed down his face. John's gleeful smile faded and he walked away. He stepped into the cool night. "Damn it!" He was not this person. He was a good person. His guilt consumed him.

He walked back in and saw Randy's piercing eyes narrowed on him. They spoke volumes along with the barely-there smirk. "Can't do it, can ya, Boy Scout?" He laughed and then grunted, clutching his ribs. "I knew you didn't have in you."

Cena kicked Randy hard in his non-injured ribs. "Shut up!"

Orton coughed blood and laughed again. "Come on, let me go and we can forget this ever happened."

About to give in, John became enraged by Randy's attitude. "I'll never forget." He grabbed the belt and struck Randy across the back and ass repeatedly. Orton cried out in genuine pain.

While Randy lay there unable to fight back, Cena unlocked his ankles and drug him towards an old barn beam. Orton screamed as he was drug. His hands were quickly cuffed around the beam. Behind him Cena pushed him to his knees.

"One more thing," Cena growled and pushed a hard cock into Orton's ass. "Fuck your discomfort," John said coldly as he penetrated Randy without help of lubrication. He'd found the ability to get hard just thinking of revenge. He could never leave things unequal.

"Uhhhh!" Randy groaned. His entire body was in pain. John was ruining his hole. "Stop it!"

Silently, Cena continued fucking Randy, ignoring his pleas. John began to feel the real sensations of Orton's tight walls tugging at his erection. It felt hot and so damn good. He slowed down and pumped Randy for the sheer pleasure of it. Orton relaxed and took John's cock in a willing manner. He dug his nails into the old barn floor and moaned loudly.

"You're gonna cum from this?" John whispered.

"Oh hell yeah, Cena," His victim moaned. "Fuck yeah. Fuck me."

"Are you close? I am." John purred.

"Fuck yes. Mm, just like that." Orton was rolling is hips and groaning like a whore. He gasped when John withdrew.

He kneeled in front of Randy and busted his load in Orton's face. "You don't get shit," Cena told him and smacked his swollen face. He rose and shortly, Randy heard the old muscle car rev to a start.

"Fuck! Cena!" Orton was freaking out. "John!"

Dirt flew everywhere as John tore away in the Charger. Back in the barn, still cuffed to a beam and mostly nude, Orton began to panic.

When he reached asphalt, Cena never slowed and the fast car fishtailed and then straightened up. He pressed the gas down and soon had the big V8 flying down the highway at well over a hundred miles-per-hour. He felt like himself again. He smiled and it was probably the first genuine one in days.

"I'm comin' for ya, Cody," He said out loud and then cranked up the radio, a hard gangster tune playing and pumping him up.

_Thug life, niggas better be known, be approaching In the wide open,_

_ gun smoking, no need for hoping_

_It's a battle lost, _

_I got 'em crossed_

_As soon as the funk is bopping off, nigga, I hit 'em up - Tupac, "Hit em up"_

Continued ...


End file.
